Here
by HaydnWood
Summary: A new person ends up on the island. How will she play into the next strange chain of events? Jack x OC, Sawyer x Kate. My first multi-chapter fic.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My first multi-chapter fic, as well as my first Lost fic. I began writing this before I finished watching the first season, so this first chapter is set after Boone's death, but before the raft leaves. Hope you enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Lost or any of its characters. This goes for the entire story. I do, however, own my OC, Morgan Decker.

**

* * *

****Chapter 1**

The sun was setting over the ocean, creating a beautiful pattern of reds, pinks, and golds on the clouds. Locke would have enjoyed it a lot more had he not been stuck on this godforsaken island. He gazed out thoughtfully over the impassable expanse of water, remembering his conversation with Walt not too long ago.

_"I don't want to move anymore. I've been moving places my whole life. I like it here."  
Locke nodded in agreement as he looked around, remembering the seemingly magical healing of his legs since he arrived._

_"I like it here, too."_

_  
_Of course, he was grateful to the island for healing him in a way that nothing else could, but there were so many mysteries. The hatch . . . the French woman . . . and what had caused Boone to want to stay in the plane?

Locke felt a pang as he remembered Boone's death. It was his fault that Boone had climbed into that plane, his fault that he had gotten trapped, that the plane had fallen, crushed Boone's leg, and Locke couldn't do a thing about it. He couldn't even tell Jack the truth, couldn't look him in the eye and tell him what had happened.

He sighed and scanned the horizon, then turned and looked up and down the beach. To his right, people milled around the makeshift tents and shelters, chatting casually as they started fires in preparation for nightfall. To his left, nothing but sand, trees, and rocks.

He frowned suddenly, noticing something half on the beach, getting washed around by the waves. It looked like a rock . . . but he was _positive_ there wasn't a rock there yesterday . . .

As he approached it, he saw it was a person. Lying in the sand, moving slightly with the waves, it was unclear whether he was dead or unconscious. As he kneeled down next to him, Locke realized that it was not a he, but a she. Well-built, with a dark ponytail, her clothes were battered and torn. When he turned her onto her back and checked to see if she was still alive, he could feel the slight puffs of air from her open mouth. He hauled her onto his back and set off as fast as he could across the beach.

* * *

Jack was just walking back onto the beach, as he had just filled his water bottles, when he heard yelling from farther down the sand. "Jack! Jack!" Kate ran up to him, breathing heavily. "Locke found someone on the beach. She's barely conscious. They're down near Sawyer's tent right now."

Jack barely refrained from shaking his head. _I can't go two minutes without someone getting into trouble. . ._ "Why Sawyer's tent?" He asked as he jogged after Kate.

She shrugged. "It's big, it's mostly empty, and he has a lot of medicine and stuff." Jack thought he detected a slight blush on her cheeks, but decided to ignore it. There was a mob of people gathered around Sawyer's tent as they arrived.

"Excuse me. . ." Jack pushed his way through the crowd, breaking through the ring to see Locke and Sawyer kneeling next to an unconscious young woman lying on the bed. Jack immediately took off his pack and began to rifle through it, pulling out gauze, tape, and a needle and thread. He paused briefly to glance up at Sawyer. "Got any alcohol? I need to clean her wounds."

Sawyer nodded slowly; Jack knew it must be killing him to have to give up anything from his stash. "Sure, Doc. Any preference?"

Jack shook his head as he poured some water onto a rag, dabbing the girl's face to remove some of the grime. Sawyer gave him three or four small bottles of alcohol, and Jack poured some onto the gauze to tape on her shallower wounds. She stirred slightly at this, and Locke started. Jack glanced briefly up at her face before continuing to clean her cuts. Her eyelids fluttered a few times, then opened. She awoke to see three men staring down at her, one with a rather worried expression, one staring off nonchalantly into the distance, and the other cleaning her face. She tried to sit up, but one of them put a hand on her shoulder. "Take it easy. You've got a lot of cuts."

She blinked. "Where . . . where am I?"

Jack shook his head and chuckled slightly. "I wish I could tell you. We're on an island somewhere in the Pacific. Our plane crashed here over a month ago." He began to thread the needle. "I'm Jack, by the way. What's your name?"

". . .Morgan." She winced as he carefully began to sew up a gash on her forehead.

Jack smiled. "Nice to meet you, Morgan. This is John Locke, who found you on the beach, and this is Sawyer." He indicated the two as he spoke their names, and they nodded slightly in acknowledgement. She tried to smile in return, but grimaced as the needle pierced her skin again.

"You said your plane crashed . . . how many survivors are there?" She asked, as Jack finished her stitches.

He sat back. "A little over forty. There used to be more, but . . . it's been rough." He began to clean up his supplies.

Morgan tried to sit up again, helped by Locke, and succeeded. "Your plane - it wouldn't happen to be Oceanic 815, would it?"

Jack looked up sharply. "How did you know that?"

Morgan shrugged. "I was on one of the police boats searching for your flight. I'm a cryptologist working with the LAPD. Our radar detected something weird, and the next thing I knew, I was flying through the air. Our boat exploded. I thought I saw land in the distance, so I swam toward it. I passed out soon after and woke up here." She frowned suddenly, as if remembering something. "You must be Jack Shepard, then. The doctor?"

"Yeah . . ." said Jack slowly. "How did you-"

"We had a flight manifest. So we could identify the passengers. There were a few who stood out. You, for one. There were two people who were being sent back to the U.S., one under arrest. There was a man who had won the lottery. And, of course, a whole bunch of people on business or personal trips."

By this time, since the crisis was over, most of the crowd had dissipated. Only Jack, Locke, Sawyer, and Kate remained with Morgan.

"Oh, yeah," Jack said. "Morgan, this is Kate."

Morgan nodded slowly. They stared at each other for a moment, then Morgan smiled. "Nice to meet you, Kate." She extended her hand, and Kate shook it.

"Can you walk at all? I think we've intruded on Sawyer's place long enough." Jack smiled.

"Yeah." Morgan shakily stood up, with her arm around Jack's shoulders for support. "It was nice to meet you all." As they walked out of the tent, they passed Sawyer by the entrance. Morgan paused. ". . . Sawyer?"

He looked up, hiding his surprise. "Yeah?" He answered gruffly.

"That's not your real name, is it?"

Sawyer sat stock-still for a moment, treating her to one of his deathglares. Finally, he broke the eye contact and shook his head slightly. "No," he admitted. "It ain't."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Morgan stumbled slightly as she ducked into the darkened tent. Jack briefly tightened his grip on her side to keep her steady, then gestured to a makeshift bed - a pile of blankets on a rough wooden base. "I had to improvise a bed, and Sawyer got most of the good stuff. I hope you don't mind . . ."

"Not at all." She hesitated. "Is this - your tent?"

"Yeah." Jack grinned sheepishly. "It's not much. But I figured you're still pretty beat up, and since I'm the only doctor . . ."

"I get it. No problem." She gingerly lay on the "bed," trying to get comfortable. She listened as Jack climbed into his own bed, listened to the sounds of the other survivors getting ready for another night. As the sounds slowly subsided, she lay awake, staring up at the tarp covering the shelter.

"Morgan?"

She flinched, startled by the sound of Jack's voice in the dark. "Y . . . yeah?"

"How did you know that Sawyer isn't his real name?"

Morgan almost laughed. Jack had been pondering _this_ for the past half hour? "Simple. There was no one on the flight manifest named Sawyer, but he matched the physical description of a certain James Ford." She paused, uncertain how much to trust Jack with. She had only met him a few hours ago, but somehow she trusted him implicitly. _And he saved my life . . ._ "He was also one of the ones being deported."

Jack chuckled softly. "You're sharp. I've been looking at physical descriptions and medical records for years, and I _still_ can't identify a patient by sight."

Morgan smiled slightly in the dark, but her eyelids were already beginning to slide shut.

"Night, Morgan."

* * *

_She was back aboard the boat. She leaned on the railing, scanning the horizon, looking for landmasses. She sensed someone next to her, and turned to see Jared standing next to her. She smiled slightly, and he smiled back at her before returning to watching the ocean. "Jared?" she began. "Can I ask you something?"_

_He turned back to her, this time with a frown on his face. He said something, and although he spoke clearly, she couldn't understand him._

_"What was that?" she asked in confusion. He replied unintelligibly, scrutinizing her face in fear and confusion. "Jared?"_

_She realized with a sudden horror that her speech was no more recognizable than his. She looked back up at him, and his face suddenly flashed, becoming dozens of different faces in a few seconds. The last one she saw was _his_ face . . . her brother's . . . _

_Then he was gone, catapulted through the air by the force of a huge explosion. She felt the ground rumble under her feet and --_

Morgan sat bolt upright, breathing heavily, sweat pouring down her face. She stared at a tarp for a moment, uncomprehending, when she remembered where she was. Without warning, pain assaulted her head and she winced aloud.

"Morgan_? Morgan_!_"_

She whipped her head around, despite the pain, to see Jack kneeling next to her, a worried look on his face. "Morgan, are you all right? You were having a nightmare, so I tried to wake you up, but then you screamed and wouldn't respond --"

"I'm . . . fine," Morgan said. "Sorry for making you worry -- aah!" She gasped as pain jolted through her head.

"Headache?" Jack said sympathetically. Morgan barely nodded. "I'm not surprised. You must have taken a really nasty whack to knock you out for so long, so it makes sense that you're achy now." He got up and dug through his bag, then handed her two small pills and a bottle of water. "These should help."

". . . Thanks." She sat for a moment after swallowing the pills, watching the sliver of ocean she could see through the tent's opening. She shuddered suddenly as a bit of her dream came back to her. _Standing next to him . . . watching the waves under the bright yellow sun . . . _

Jack noticed the shudder and frowned. "Are you sure you're okay, Morgan?"

She looked at him, nodding in an attempt to reassure him. "I'm fine. Really." She stood up carefully. "I'm going to go out side for a bit."

Jack nodded and watched her unsteadily walking to the beach.

* * *

Morgan stepped out of Jack's tent and squinted as the bright morning sunlight hit her. She stood for a moment, watching the waves as her eyes adjusted to the light. She unconsciously touched her neck - and suddenly became aware that something was missing.

* * *

" . . . Excuse me?"

Claire looked up to see an unfamiliar young woman standing next to her. She didn't think much of it - there were so many people on the plane that she couldn't recognize everyone. Especially when she didn't remember the crash . . . "Yes?" she replied politely.

"Do you know where John Locke is?" Claire frowned and glanced around. "He's either still in his tent or . . ." She looked down the beach and pointed. "There he is! Sitting by himself down the beach."

Morgan smiled. "Thanks." She began to walk away, but stopped and turned back. "I'm Morgan, by the way. Morgan Decker."

Claire smiled and extended her hand to shake. "I'm Claire Littleton. Nice to meet you, Morgan." Morgan shook her hand and walked off toward Locke.

* * *

Locke looked up as Morgan approached and raised a hand in greeting. "Morning, Morgan."

"Good morning, Mr. Locke."

He shook his head, smiling slightly. "Please, just call me John." She grinned nervously and sat down beside him.

". . . John, you were the one that found me, right?"

Locke nodded. "Sure was. Is something wrong?"

Morgan ignored the question. "Was I wearing a necklace when you found me?"

His brow furrowed. "Maybe . . . I know you weren't wearing one in Sawyer's tent, but it might have fallen off when I picked you up."

"Can you show me where that was?"

"Sure." Locke stood up and began to walk further down the beach. He ignored Morgan's urgency, the tension evident in her voice; he knew that she would tell him about it when she was ready. "Here it is. You were lying down there, behind that rock." He pointed to a low rock, half-hidden by the sand. She immediately dropped to her knees, ignoring the bolt of pain through her head, and began to paw through the tightly packed sand.

Locke watched uncomfortably. "Is there . . . anything I can do?"

Morgan looked up at him briefly, and he sensed a slight desperation in her eyes. "Sure. It's a gold necklace with a key on it."

Locke nodded and dropped to his knees nearby, looking around a yard or two away. They searched in silence for several minutes until Morgan finally broke it. "Why haven't you asked what the key is for yet?"

Locke laughed. "That's what Jack might do. He is a man of science; he always wants the facts. I believe that you'll tell me what it's for when you want to."

A few more minutes passed, and Morgan suddenly sat back on her heels. "This is useless. It probably got washed away."

"Don't worry. We'll find it," Locke said, smiling.

"How can you be so sure?" She said, irritated by his constant calm.

"Because . . ." He turned and held something out to her. She stretched out her hand in amazement, and he dropped a key on a worn chain into it. "I am a man of faith."


End file.
